Torik’s Growing Doubts

The night deepened around the camp, the bandits moving as they prepared to abandon the clearing. Wagons creaked under the weight of hastily packed supplies, and whispered arguments broke out over what could and couldn't be left behind. The tension was clearly visible.

Torik stood near the center of the chaos, his eyes scanning the camp. His dagger twirled in his hand, but the usual cocky smirk was missing. Instead, his lips were pressed into a thin line.

"Two hours," he barked. "I want us moving in two hours. If you're not ready, you're dead weight."

A few of the bandits muttered under their breath, but none dared voice their complaints aloud. Even now, with danger closing in, Torik's presence kept them in line.

Kain approached cautiously, his staff resting on his shoulder. He'd been watching Torik all night, trying to understand the man who seemed both fearless and reckless in equal measure.

"You're pushing them too hard," Kain said, his voice steady but low. "They're already scared. This isn't helping."

Torik turned, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Kain. "Scared is good. Scared keeps them moving."

Kain shook his head. "Scared makes them sloppy. If Lirian catches up, we'll need everyone at their best. Not exhausted and broken."

Torik's smirk returned. "You've got opinions now, huh?"

"I'm just saying—"

"You don't know what it takes to survive," Torik interrupted. "You think this is about morale? About keeping them happy? It's about making sure we don't die."

Kain's jaw tightened, but he didn't back down. "And what happens when they stop following you? When they decide they'd rather take their chances on their own?"

Torik's smirk faded, and for a moment, something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Then he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "They won't. Because they know what's waiting for them out there. And they know I'm their best chance."

Nearby, the prisoners huddled together, their chains rattling softly as they whispered among themselves. The girl glanced nervously at the scarred man, her voice barely audible. "He's going to use us, isn't he? As bait."

The scarred man nodded grimly. "That's what I'd do. Keep their attention off the wagons."

The girl's eyes darted toward Kain, who was still speaking with Torik. "What about him? He doesn't seem like the others."

The man chuckled, though it was a hollow sound. "Doesn't matter. When it comes down to it, he'll do what he's told. They always do."

As the camp settled into preparation, Torik moved to the edge of the clearing, his gaze fixed on the dark forest. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on his shoulders.

He pulled a flask from his belt, taking a long drink before exhaling. His mind drifted to Alric, to the man he once trusted and now barely tolerated. The thought of Alric out there, gambling on some half-baked plan, only deepened the knot in his stomach.

The faint sound of footsteps behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He didn't turn, already knowing who it was.

"You think he'll come back?" Kain asked quietly.

Torik smirked. "Alric's too stubborn to die. He'll be back."

Kain hesitated. "And if he doesn't?"

Torik's smirk vanished. He didn't answer.

The camp was a hive of frantic activity when the faint sound of footsteps and clinking metal reached the edges of the clearing. Torik's head snapped up, his dagger already in his hand as his eyes scanned the treeline.

"Hold," he growled, his voice cutting through the noise. The bandits froze, their weapons half-raised, their gazes darting nervously toward the forest.

A moment later, Alric stepped into view, his sword sheathed but his posture alert. Behind him came the mercenaries, their faces grim and bloodied, their weapons stained with the evidence of their journey.

Torik's expression darkened as he strode toward Alric, his smirk razor-thin. "You're late."

Alric stopped just short of Torik, his eyes meeting the bandit leader's without flinching. "I brought you men. That's what matters."

Torik's gaze flicked to the mercenaries, his smirk fading as he took in their numbers. "Twenty? That's it? You expect me to fight fifty Lirian soldiers with twenty mercs and a handful of half-dead bandits?"

"You won't be fighting fifty," Alric replied coolly. "We hit them before they reach the camp, ambush them while they're spread out. Your bandits don't even need to hold the line. That's what these men are for."

Torik's smirk sharpened. "You think I'm going to trust them to fight my battle?"

"You don't have a choice," Alric snapped, stepping closer. "They're here because of me, not you. You can either work with them or die trying to do it your way."

For a long moment, the two men stared each other down, the weight of their history pressing between them. Then Torik stepped back, his smirk fading. "Fine. But if this falls apart, I'll gut you myself."

As the bandits and mercenaries mingled uneasily, Garik strode into the clearing, his massive axe resting on his shoulder. His one good eye scanned the camp with faint amusement.

"This is the grand army you promised?" he asked Alric, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"They're enough," Alric replied, his tone firm.

Garik chuckled, shaking his head. "You'd better hope so. My men don't like wasting their time on lost causes."

Torik approached, his expression unreadable. "Your men are tools. Tools don't need opinions."

The mercenaries stiffened, their hands drifting toward their weapons, but Garik only grinned. "Careful, bandit." Alric stepped between them, his voice cutting through them. "Enough. We don't have time for this."

The leaders gathered around a rough map scratched into the dirt. Torik crouched at the edge, his dagger tracing lines through the soil.

"They'll come from the west," he said. "That's where their scouts were spotted. We can choke them here." He jabbed the tip of the dagger at a narrow pass marked by dense trees.

"Choke points work both ways," Garik said, crouching beside him. "If they've got archers, you're pinning yourself down."

"That's where we hit them hard," Alric added. "Fast. Take out their front line before they can regroup."

Torik glanced at him, his smirk faint. "You're awfully optimistic for someone who just ran from a fight."

Garik leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "Risky. But it might work."

As the plan took shape, Torik's gaze landed on Kain, who had been watching from the edge of the group.

"You'll be with me," Torik said.

Kain blinked, surprised. "Why?"

"Because I don't trust you anywhere else," Torik replied, his smirk sharpening. "And because if this goes to hell, I'd rather keep an eye on you."

Kain hesitated, then nodded. "Fine."

"Good," Torik said, standing. "Get some rest while you can. We move before dawn.".

Far beyond the camp, the torches of House Lirian's forces flickered in the darkness, their steady advance a promise of blood and chaos.

The battle was coming.

The bandits and mercenaries crouched in the underbrush, their breaths shallow. The narrow pass ahead was silent save for the occasional rustle of leaves.

Torik stood at the edge of the group. Beside him, Kain gripped his staff tightly, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Remember," Torik whispered, his voice cutting through the silence. "Wait for my signal. We hit hard and fast, then pull back. No heroes."

Garik chuckled softly from the other side of the clearing. "Hear that, boys? No heroes. Just corpses if you screw up."

"They're here," Torik murmured.

The Lirian soldiers moved in tight formation, their armor reflecting the torchlight as they advanced. At their head was a tall man clad in a surcoat bearing House Lirian's sigil, his gaze sharp and commanding.

Torik raised his hand, signaling the group to hold. The tension was palpable, each breath drawn slowly, each muscle coiled to strike.

When the lead soldier stepped into the choke point, Torik's hand dropped. "Now!" he hissed.

The forest erupted into chaos.

Arrows rained down from the trees, striking the first line of soldiers. Two fell instantly, their cries cut short as they crumpled to the ground. The rest scattered, their formation breaking as they scrambled for cover.

Torik darted forward, his dagger flashing in the moonlight as he plunged it into the throat of a soldier struggling to raise his shield. Blood sprayed across the dirt as the man fell, his weapon clattering uselessly to the ground.

"Push them back!" Garik roared, his massive axe cleaving through an enemy with a single swing. His mercenaries followed suit, their attacks precise and ruthless.

The chaos of the battlefield roared around Kain, but in that moment, all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. The soldier before him lunged, his sword cutting through the air. Kain barely reacted in time, twisting his body to avoid the strike. The blade grazed his side, the sharp sting of pain snapping him into focus.

Kain's grip tightened on the staff, a sturdy piece of wood, but hardly a match for the steel flashing before him. The soldier pressed forward. Kain ducked low, his movements clumsy but driven by raw instinct, and jabbed the end of the staff into the man's ribs.

The soldier grunted, stumbling back a step. Kain seized the moment, slamming the staff against his opponent's knee with all the strength he could muster. The soldier fell to one knee, his sword arm sagging for a brief second.

Kain froze, his chest heaving. The man looked up at him, his eyes wide with a mix of pain and fury. For a moment, Kain saw not a soldier, but a person, a life that was about to end. His grip on the staff faltered, his breath catching in his throat.

"Do it," Torik's voice barked from somewhere behind him. "Or he'll do it to you."

The soldier reached for his fallen sword, his fingers brushing the hilt. Kain's body moved on instinct, the staff swinging down hard. The wood connected with the man's head with a sickening crunch.

The soldier crumpled to the ground, his body limp. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking into the dirt. Kain stood frozen, his arms trembling as he stared at the lifeless figure.

Everything else faded, the battle, the shouts, the clashing of steel. All Kain could see was the blood. His chest heaved as the enormity of what he'd done settled over him.

The staff slipped from his fingers, landing in the dirt with a dull thud. His hands shook, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He wanted to look away, to turn and run, but his feet felt rooted to the ground.

"Get moving, boy!" Torik's voice snapped like a whip. Kain turned his head, his eyes wide as he saw Torik dispatching another soldier. Torik's face was spattered with blood. "This isn't the time to fall apart."

A shadow loomed in the corner of Kain's vision. He turned just in time to see another soldier charging toward him, sword raised high. Kain scrambled back, his heart pounding as the man's blade arced toward him.

The staff was out of reach. Kain's hand shot out, grabbing the fallen soldier's sword. The weight was unfamiliar, heavy and unbalanced in his grip, but it was better than nothing.

The charging soldier's blade came down, and Kain raised the sword instinctively. Steel met steel with a deafening clang, the force of the impact nearly knocking Kain off his feet. His arms shook as he pushed back, the soldier snarling as he pressed harder.

Desperation surged through Kain. He shifted his weight, twisting the blade to the side. The soldier stumbled, his balance faltering. Kain didn't hesitate this time. He drove the sword forward, the point sinking into the man's chest.

The soldier gasped, his eyes wide with shock as he fell to the ground. Kain released the hilt, his hands shaking as he stared down at the body.

Torik approached, his dagger slick with blood. He glanced at the sword in Kain's hand, then at the two bodies at his feet. His smirk returned, faint but approving.

"Looks like you're getting the hang of it," Torik said, his tone almost casual.

Kain didn't respond. His grip on the sword tightened, his knuckles white. The weapon felt alien in his hands, its weight a constant reminder of what he had done.

Torik clapped him on the shoulder, the gesture almost friendly. "You did what you had to. Remember that. If you hadn't, you'd be the one bleeding out right now."

Kain nodded stiffly, though his chest felt tight.

The battlefield was chaos incarnate. The Lirian soldiers had regrouped, forming a disciplined line of shields and spears that pressed forward. 

The bandits faltered against the relentless advance. They were used to ambushes and skirmishes, not facing trained soldiers in organized formations. Their attacks grew more desperate, their movements more erratic.

"Hold the line!" Torik bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. His dagger flashing as he ducked beneath a spear thrust and drove his blade into a soldier's exposed armpit. The man crumpled with a cry, but Torik didn't stop. He grabbed the fallen soldier's shield, using it to deflect a blow from another attacker.

Kain, standing a few paces behind Torik, watched in awe and terror. 

On the other side of the clearing, Garik let out a guttural roar as he swung his massive axe. The blade cleaved through the shield of a Lirian soldier, splitting the man's arm in a spray of blood. Garik kicked the body aside and turned to face the next opponent, his grin feral.

"Push them back!" he shouted. 

The mercenaries followed his lead. A woman wielding a curved blade darted in and out of the enemy's formation, her sword slashing at gaps in their armor. Another mercenary, a hulking man with a spiked mace, shattered shields with bone-crunching swings.

But the Lirian soldiers didn't break. Their commander barked orders from the rear, his voice sharp and commanding. "Hold formation! Keep pressing forward!"

The bandits, however, were struggling. They fought with the desperation of cornered animals, but their lack of discipline was glaring. One broke ranks to charge a soldier, only to be impaled on a spear. Another turned to flee, his screams cut short as an arrow found his back.

Kain's heart pounded as he watched the chaos unfold. A soldier lunged toward him, and he barely had time to raise the blade. Their swords clashed, the impact sending a jolt up Kain's arm.

"Don't just stand there, boy!" Torik snarled, his dagger slicing across another soldier's throat. "Fight!"

Kain gritted his teeth and stepped forward, the sword feeling like a lead weight. The soldier attacked again, but this time, Kain dodged, his movements fueled by sheer instinct. He swung the blade, the edge grazing the soldier's shoulder. It wasn't a killing blow, but it forced the man back.

Torik saw the opening and seized it. "Now!" he shouted to the archers hidden in the trees.

A volley of arrows rained down, targeting the rear of the Lirian formation. The commander raised his shield, but several of his men fell, their bodies crumpling under the assault. The disruption was enough to loosen the soldiers' tight ranks.

Garik charged into the gap, his axe carving a path through the disoriented soldiers. "Come on!" he roared, his voice like a battle cry. "This is what you came for!"

The mercenaries surged forward, their attacks relentless. One soldier fell with a mace crushing his helm, another with a dagger buried in his spine. The disciplined line of shields and spears began to falter under the unrelenting assault.

Amid the chaos, Kain found himself face-to-face with another soldier. The man's eyes burned with determination, his sword raised high. The soldier swung, but Kain sidestepped, his blade cutting upward. The sword struck the soldier's arm, severing tendons. The man cried out, his weapon clattering to the ground.

Kain didn't hesitate. He drove the blade forward, piercing the man's chest. The soldier fell, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. Kain stumbled back, his chest heaving. He couldn't think about the blood on his hands, not now.

The combination of arrows, Garik's relentless assault, and Torik's tactics began to take its toll on the Lirian forces. The soldiers' line crumbled, and their commander's shouts grew more desperate.

Torik darted forward, his dagger finding the gap in a soldier's helmet. "Fall back!" he shouted to his own men. "They're breaking! Pull back before they regroup!"

The bandits and mercenaries retreated into the shadows. The Lirian soldiers didn't pursue, too focused on tending to their wounded and regrouping.

As the group regrouped deeper in the forest, Kain leaned against a tree, his hands trembling. He stared at the blood on his sword, his stomach turning. Around him, the survivors caught their breath, their faces pale and bloodied.

"You held your own," Torik said, approaching with a faint smirk. "Didn't think you had it in you."

Kain looked at him, "Is this what surviving looks like?"

Torik's smirk faded slightly. "It's what it takes."

"We bought ourselves some time," Alric said, stepping into the clearing. "But not much."

Torik nodded, his smirk returning. "Then let's make it count."

The battlefield was silent now, the flames reduced to smoldering embers that cast faint orange glows against the forest. The surviving bandits and mercenaries gathered in the clearing, their faces etched with exhaustion and the faint glint of relief.

Garik stood near the pile of bodies, his massive axe resting on his shoulder. "Well, that was a mess," he said, his voice breaking the silence. "But a profitable one."

Torik approached cautiously, his dagger still in hand. "We won. That's all that matters."

Garik turned to him, his smirk sharpening. "You didn't win. I did. My men turned the tide while your boys fell apart. And now, we settle up."

Torik's eyes narrowed, his grip on the dagger tightening. "."

 "My men will take their share of the spoils, every weapon, every coin, every scrap of food you've got left."

Torik bristled, but before he could speak, Alric stepped between them.

"Fine," Alric said evenly. "Take it. That was the deal."

Garik chuckled, his grin widening. "Glad you remember. But here's the thing: this little stunt of yours didn't just cost me men. It showed me something important."

Alric frowned. "And what's that?"

"You're useful," Garik said, his tone casual but laced with steel. "Both of you. More useful than this camp full of half-dead thieves. So here's the new deal. You work for me. Fight under my banner. Prove your worth."

Torik's smirk returned, razor-sharp. "And if we say no?"

Garik's grin faded, replaced by a cold stare. "Then I take everything, and leave you to Lirian's dogs. Your choice."

The bandits behind Torik shifted uneasily, their loyalty visibly wavering. The sight of Garik's well-armed, battle-hardened mercenaries had left a mark, and the promise of protection under his banner wasn't something they could ignore.

Torik glanced at Alric, "This was your gamble. What now?"

Alric met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "We'll discuss it. Privately."

Garik shrugged, stepping back. "Take your time. But don't take too long. My patience has limits."

Torik and Alric moved away from the group, their voices low but tense.

"You knew this would happen," Torik hissed, his tone accusatory. "You handed him the leverage to pull this."

"I didn't have a choice," Alric shot back. "We needed them to survive, and now we have."

Torik shook his head. "Survived, only to become his pawns."

"It's temporary," Alric said firmly. "We play along, wait for the right moment, and we'll figure a way out."

"And if there isn't a way out?" Torik asked, his voice dropping.

Alric hesitated, his jaw tightening. "There will be."

Kain sat near the edge of the clearing, the bloodied sword still in his hands. He watched Torik and Alric argue in hushed tones, their postures tense and their voices barely audible.

The girl from the prisoners sat beside him, her voice low. "What's happening?"

"They're deciding whether we're trading one master for another," Kain muttered, his tone bitter.

She frowned. "What do you think they'll do?"

Kain didn't answer immediately. His gaze drifted to Garik, who was speaking with his lieutenants, his massive frame illuminated by the dying firelight.

"They'll agree," Kain said finally, his voice hollow. "Because they don't have a choice."

Torik and Alric returned to Garik, their expressions grim but composed.

"We'll fight for you," Torik said, his smirk faint but sharp. "For now."

Garik's grin returned, jagged and predatory. "Smart choice. Welcome to the Wolves."

He turned to his men, his voice booming. "Pack it up! We're moving out at dawn. These two are with us now."